


The virtues in the verse.

by nanasteiger



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, poet!Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasteiger/pseuds/nanasteiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard is amazed when Jim starts writing about him. At first are little post-it in the morning, usually when he had to leave before him for classes and didn’t want to wake him up, then the poems started, and the letters, and Leonard was so overwhelmed he didn’t know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The virtues in the verse.

**Author's Note:**

> The title song and the note Jim writes on the post-it is from the Bastille song Poet. The haiku is mine and sucks, i know. It was my first attempt. It wanted to be a very light, kinda funny thing.

The best thing about his new relationship with Jim Kirk, he has to admit, is seeing him walking naked most of the time they are in his apartment. Which is pretty often, but Leonard doesn’t mind, he likes the kid crashing at his place after his classes and yes, the naked part.

The second best thing about his new relationship with Jim Kirk is that Jim is a fantastic writer -even if he’s almost finished studying for his PhD in engineering and he’s so much good at that too- and he loves to watch him when he has a pen between his very long, very beautiful fingers. Or behind his ears, or in his mouth. He likes what a pen can to that man (he still doesn’t know if he can consider that as a kink) and what that man can do with a pen and a blank page. He utterly loves the look in his eyes when he is on the couch with his notebook and his thick black glasses on his nose, he loves the spark that sometimes burst in those oh-so-blue gems when a very good ideas starts blooming in his wonderful mind.

And probably Leonard has never been that much of a reader -all his life has been with the nose in huge and dusty medicine books his father used to give him when he started to be interested in following his steps first, and then the ones he bought himself, always huge but less dusty- but he can see when someone is good and Jim is fantastic. He can make him tear up reading his first draft of his final dissertation about _predictive engineering in wind energy industry: a data mining approach_ that is boring as it seems but somehow made interesting by his writing and his passion and devotion. He can make him laugh with a grocery list. He can have him thinking all day through his shift at the hospital about that old letter he wrote to his father when he was sixteen and he thought that his life was meaningless, that one Jim really wanted him to be the first one to read. .

Leonard is amazed when Jim starts writing about him. At first are little post-it in the morning, usually when he had to leave before him for classes and didn’t want to wake him up, something like _i want to read you with my eyes, i want to hold you in my hands_ on a yellow card sticked on his favorite coffee mug. Maybe an haiku here and there, left on the fridge under a magnet (the first one was behind a picture of a cat, _immortal i feel / when i see liquid amber / your eyes bring to life_ was his favorite because he couldn’t still believe that Jim could see him that way) and then the poems started, and the letters, and Leonard was so overwhelmed he didn’t know what to do.

“Do you want me to write you something back?” he asked one night, laying with Jim head on his chest and his hand along his back. They had been in silence for so long that for a moment he wondered if Jim had fallen asleep or couldn’t understand of what he was talking about.

“No” he had said, looking at him with a little smile. Jim didn’t know that he had even tried, once or twice to write something, just to make him see how much he appreciate it, how much it meant to him, but everything looked so poor and forced that he had stopped. “No, I don’t do this because I want you to answer me”

“And then why you do it?”

He had thought about it before but never dared to ask but in that moment seemed the most natural and the most important question. He wanted to know why,, why him, why like that, why put so much love for someone like him? He couldn’t say he was insecure about their relationship, he knew they loved each other _so much_ , but he just couldn’t get why Jim wanted to tell him like this.

“It’s really just because i’m really selfish, Len” he says, almost whisper against his neck, like he wanted to share this secret with him. Leonard try to reach his gaze but Jim is somewhere else, thinking about his words and how to put them right, how to make them beautiful.

“I write about you because you are so important and i don’t want to lose you.” he breathed deeply, rolling over this back and looking at the ceiling. “I want to keep you with me but i’m afraid that one day you’ll see how much fucked up i am and you’ll leave, so i write about you. So you’ll always be with me. I’ll have you in my poems and my letters and my stories. I go as down as i can, and i dig you up until i touch your bones and write all down so i’ll have you always with me”

Jim had an arm over his eyes and he never looked so naked and so beautiful.

 

 


End file.
